


Come Adore on Bended Knee

by ranguvar82



Series: The Angel and his Artist [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Shameless Smut, Sub Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28093806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82
Summary: Crowley isn't sure what to get Aziraphale for Christmas. Aziraphale shows him that he's already got everything he wants.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Angel and his Artist [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975948
Comments: 40
Kudos: 63





	1. Wrapped in Gold

Come Adore On Bended Knee

Chapter One: Wrapped in Gold

Crowley stood on the beach, watching the waves roll in. Red hair peeked from under a woolen hat, dancing around in the cold air. The artist shivered a bit, hands buried inside thick gloves. There was no sound save the steady lap of waves against the sand and the occasional cry of sea birds.

Crowley sensed movement behind him and turned, gazing in worshipful adoration at Aziraphale. “Love, what are you doing out here?” The blond asked. “It’s freezing.”

Crowley ducked his head, and Aziraphale gently grabbed his chin, tilting his face up. “What is it, my dearest?”

‘I don’t know what to get you for Christmas.’ Crowley signed, tears pricking his face. ‘Every time I think of something, it just seems...cheap. I thought maybe if I came out here and thought, I’d come up with something, but I haven’t!’ Crowley began crying in earnest. Aziraphale’s heart went out to him.

“Oh, my darling artist, you do not have to get me anything. You are more than enough, my darling Fire.” Crowley looked a bit skeptical. Aziraphale tugged gently on a strand of hair. “Let’s go inside, my love, and I’ll prove it to you.” Crowley followed Aziraphale into their house.

Once inside, Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a deep, passionate kiss, sighing as he always did at the lovely spice taste of his silent darling. The gallery owner pressed Crowley into the wall, his nails digging sharply into Crowley’s delectable thighs. Crowley groaned into Aziraphale’s mouth, and Aziraphale sucked hard on Crowley’s bottom lip, smirking to himself at the whimper he made. Crowley lifted one leg, then another, and Aziraphale held him up as Crowley wrapped his arms around his master with a breathy moan of arousal. Aziraphale moved from Crowley’s delectable mouth to the smooth column of his throat and bit down hard. Crowley screeched in joy, his entire body shaking. Aziraphale sucked a bruise where he had bitten, and Crowley mewled, head thrown back and golden eyes dark.

“Gloves.” Aziraphale ordered in his Dominant Voice, and Crowley yanked his gloves off, tossing them aside. Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand, running his fingers lovingly across the knuckles before taking one finger at a time into his mouth and sucking. Crowley whimpered. Aziraphale gave him a look that made the artist whimper in longing. “So delectable, my beautiful slut. On your knees.”

Crowley dropped to his knees so fast his head spun. He looked up at Master, his face aglow with worship. Master took off Crowley’s hat and dug his fingers into Crowley’s hair, scratching. Crowley purred in ecstasy and pressed up into Master’s hand, whining. “Look at you. So beautiful, so willing. My perfect slut. My darling. Raise your arms.” Crowley instantly obeyed, and Aziraphale pulled off his jumper. The Dominant grabbed his Submissive’s hands and pressed them together, then undid his tartan bow tie and tied Crowley’s hands together. “Hands on the wall, my perfect one.” Crowley pressed his tied hands to the wall behind him. “Now. You will suck my cock. If you are a good boy and make me come, I’ll let you open one of your Christmas presents early. Do you understand?”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale undid his trousers, pulling out his hard and dripping cock. “Remember, make me come and you’ll get a present.”

Crowley whined happily and leaned forward, taking Master’s perfect cock into his mouth. As ever, the taste and feel of him was enough to make Crowley want to cry in joy, joy that he had such a perfect, wonderful, amazing, and loving Master. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard in the way he knew Master loved so much. He wrapped his tongue around the velvet smooth, iron hard shaft and sucked harder, bobbing his head as he took Master down his throat, whimpering steadily in happiness. This was what he was made for, what he was put on Earth for, To be Aziraphale’s Pet, to be his slave, his slut, and his toy. Crowley couldn’t remember a time before Master, when he was adrift and alone. Master was his world, his universe, and his god. Crowley worshiped him, loved him, and Master loved him, used him so wonderfully. Crowley would never get tired of it.

Aziraphale pulled hard on Crowley’s hair as he lazily fucked into his perfect mouth. Crowley was so fucking talented, he thought dizzily. His hands could create works of art that astounded the blond, and his mouth...oh, that beautiful, sinful mouth. Perfect for taking Aziraphale’s cock. Aziraphale had never loved someone as deeply as he loved this man. His perfect Pet. Crowley’s mouth wasn’t just talented at sucking cock, though. Aziraphale prided himself on being a very good kisser, but Crowley’s kisses far surpassed his. The gallery owner could easily get drunk on the kisses of his beloved. Below him, Crowley whined and whimpered in joy as he took Aziraphale down his throat. His darling slut had no gag reflex, which meant that Aziraphale could go in as deep and hard as he pleased. “Doing such a good job, my sweet slut. Taking me so well...” Aziraphale groaned, and Crowley rumbled happily. “Look at you, on bended knee, worshiping me. Adoring me. The shepherd before the Divine.” He grinned at the blasphemous thought. “I’m your god, my love. Worship me on high...”

Crowley nodded, whining. Yes. Yes, Master was his god, and Crowley lived to serve him, lived to be used by him, loved by him. The artist sucked harder, faster, and above him Master howled his name and fucked into him harder, faster, setting a brutal pace. Crowley knew Master was close, he could already taste a bit of Master’s spend, and oh how he wanted it, wanted Master to spill down his throat, paint his face with it, cover his hair with it. Crowley gave one final harsh, hard suck, and Aziraphale screamed his name and came down his throat. Before Master could come all the way, Crowley pulled off, looking up at Aziraphale in silent prayer. “You want me to paint you?” Master asked. Crowley nodded, and the next thing he knew, Master’s hot, thick spend was in his face, dripping down his chest, and coated in his hair. Crowley wanted to cry in joy, but instead he settled for leaning forward and pressing a tender, loving kiss to Aziraphale’s thigh.

Aziraphale untied him, and Crowley let his arms fall forward, wrapping himself around Master’s waist and nuzzling him. “Such a good, good boy.” Master whispered, petting him. Crowley sighed. He was a good boy. “Now, my sweet artist slut, I promised that you could open a present if you made me come.” Crowley nodded. “Go into the bedroom, darling, and get in bed on your knees. I expect you to be naked, of course.” Crowley shot to his feet and ran into the bedroom, kicked Oscar off, stripped out of his trousers, and climbed onto the bed, hands behind his back and head bowed in Submission.

Aziraphale strolled into the room holding a wrapped box in his hands. He undressed, carefully placing his clothes on the chest, then climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged. “Hold out your hands, love.” Crowley held them out, and Aziraphale handed him the box. “Open.”

Crowley eagerly tore the wrapping paper and opened the box. Inside was a package of the most beautiful Shibari ropes he had ever seen. They were a lovely golden color, and they almost seemed to shimmer in the light. Crowley squealed in happiness and kissed Aziraphale, then looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Yes, darling, we’re going to use them. But there’s another present in there.” Hooting happily, Crowley dove back into the box and came out holding a golden blindfold. He held it to his chest, sighing in joy.

Aziraphale smiled to himself. He had bought Crowley’s presents during his last trip to London, and had kept them hidden in the back closet for all these weeks. Seeing his Pet’s face alight with joy was more than worth the wait. Crowley pressed the blindfold and ropes into his hand, golden eyes wide in pleading hope. Aziraphale took them, smiling. “Now, let’s see about wrapping you in gold and fucking you like the gorgeous slut you are.” Crowley whined in happiness, and Aziraphale opened the ropes. “Arms out, love.” Crowley held his arms out, and Aziraphale looped the golden rope around his wrists, then up his arms, tying intricate knots. Crowley closed his eyes and breathed out in pure relaxation, already feeling his head starting to float. Aziraphale moved so he was behind Crowley, draping the rope across his shoulders, down his spine, and then ending by tying his legs together, leaving them spread just enough. He pulled down the rig and looped it through one of the knots, pulling Crowley up so the redhead was on his tiptoes. Aziraphale took the blindfold and secured it tightly over Crowley’s face, pressing a soft kiss to the artist’s neck. “You are so beautiful, my love. Look at you, wrapped in gold and eager for my touch.” Crowley whined as Aziraphale ran his hands down his bound body, scratching. “Now, my silent darling, you have a choice. I could lube you up right now, fuck you into sweet oblivion, or I could smack you with the crop, turn you into a shaking, sobbing mess before fucking you. Which do you want, my love?”

Crowley sobbed and held up two fingers. Aziraphale slid his hand down his front and gave his cock a hard squeeze. Crowley howled. “Good boy.” Aziraphale whispered hotly into his ear before fetching the crop and climbing back into bed. He ran the crop down Crowley’s front, then lightly smacked his cock, and the redhead jerked forward, a high pitched whine in his throat. “So wanton, so eager, such a perfect slut. My darling, I am going to wreck you.” Aziraphale said darkly. Crowley whimpered, his body shaking in need.

Aziraphale raised the crop and delivered a stinging smack to Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley howled, his head thrown back.

Master smacked him again, this time on his other shoulder, and Crowley was sure he was going to die from pleasure. Being hit like this, being this vulnerable, this open, made him so happy. His head was floating, and he sighed. Master smacked his chest, and Crowley whined, wanting more, needing more. He was Master’s canvas, and Master was such an artist when it came to Crowley and his needs.

The funny thing was, Crowley thought(or as best as he could think through the purple haze of pleasure his mind was adrift in) before Master he had never felt the need to submit to anyone. He hadn’t really even liked sex that much. Most of the time, sex was a fumble in the sheets with a bloke that he picked up at a bar and regretted the morning after. Crowley had of course always insisted on protection and gotten tested after. He had just assumed that was how it would always be. But then, one year ago, he had met his angel, his Master, and fallen head over heels in love. Giving himself so completely to another person had been exhilarating. Crowley loved it, and he loved Master.

Aziraphale delivered one final hard smack to Crowley’s ass, running the crop between the firm, round cheeks. “Such a good, good boy, taking this so well, doing so wonderfully, look at you, so prettily marked up. You’re going to have such gorgeous bruises, my sweet darling. You are such a perfect canvas for me.” Aziraphale growled, taking Crowley’s hard, leaking cock in one hand and tugging hard. Crowley howled anew. “So eager, my slut. So hard, and dripping. But you are not to come until Master gives you permission. Can you hold back for Master?”

Crowley sobbed out a breath and nodded. Aziraphale retrieved the bottle of lube from the dresser and popped it open, smearing a generous portion on his hands. He slicked up his cock, then slid three slick fingers deep into Crowley’s ass, scissoring them. Crowley yowled. Aziraphale’s fingers found the artist’s prostrate, scraping, and Crowley’s screech rattled the windows. Aziraphale removed his fingers, lowered Crowley so that his knees were touching the bed, then lined up and slammed into him, using the rig to guide his movements as he fucked his beautiful artist into oblivion.

Crowley was in paradise. His Master’s cock was inside him, filling him in the most wonderful of ways. The golden ropes felt so good, and he could feel the bruises from the crop starting to form. He was going to be so beautiful when he was marked up as Master liked.

“Good, sweet boy, my love, my only, my silent darling, I love you more every day, you are the breath in my lungs, the moon to my sun, my sweet slut, my perfect canvas, I love you, I love you. You’re doing so well, so very good,” Aziraphale whispered hotly and darkly into his ear as he stroked Crowley’s cock. “Just hold on a bit more, my darling, you are suffering so well, hold on just a bit more for Master, my perfect one..”

Crowley sobbed, panting. He needed to come, was vibrating with the need for it. Master’s hands and cock and the press of his hot flesh against Crowley’s back and the feeling of him, the scent of him was intoxicating, and Crowley had never felt more loved, more protected, and more desperate in his life.

“Come.” Master said in a dark growl, and Crowley came, screaming in ecstasy as his entire body shook. Aziraphale came seconds later, deep and hard inside his slave’s perfect ass. “Such a good, good boy.”

Crowley whined happily. Aziraphale untied him, removing the blindfold last, and Crowley fell back into his strong arms, gazing up at him in adoration. “Did you enjoy your present?” Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale smiled.

“Oh good. Because that was just one of them.”

Crowley shivered in delightful anticipation.


	2. Striped in Red and White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut!

Chapter Two: Striped in Red And White

Aziraphale gently slid out of bed, smiling to himself as Crowley whined out and reached for him, golden eyes large and pleading. “Did you want me to stay, Fire?” Crowley whimpered and nodded. “I’m just going into the bathroom to get a cloth to clean us up, love.” Crowley looked down at his come covered stomach and chest and emphatically shook his head. He ran a finger through it, then slid it into his mouth, his eyes dark and fixed on his master. Aziraphale smirked and stepped up to the bed. “You want to clean me up?” Crowley nodded eagerly, hands out in a pleading motion. “Well, we’ll see. Show Master how well you can clean yourself and maybe as a treat I’ll let you clean me.” Aziraphale said firmly, stroking Crowley’s cheek with one finger.

Crowley whined in a happy tone and began scooping up handfuls of hot, salty come, sliding them into his mouth with a sigh, licking his fingers clean after each ministration. Aziraphale watched, eyes dark and cock throbbing. Crowley made sure to get every drop up, and when his body was glistening from saliva, he scooted forward on his knees and gazed pleadingly at Aziraphale. The blond gave a shuddering sigh and nodded. Crowley hooted in happiness, watching with eager eyes as Aziraphale moved so he was sitting on the bed, his come covered cock visible. Whining, Crowley bent forward. Aziraphale’s hand on his head stopped him. “Tongue only, slave.” Crowley nodded, then pressed his tongue to Master’s cock, licking. Aziraphale swore, digging his hands into Crowley’s hair. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good Pet.” Crowley wiggled happily and continued to clean Master using only his tongue, happily swallowing his come. When Master was clean, Crowley sat up on his knees, head bowed and awaiting Master’s newest pleasure.

Aziraphale blinked, a bit dazed. But then he always was after his Pet used his mouth on him. Crowley’s mouth was magical. He scooted onto his knees and ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. The artist purred and pressed into Aziraphale’s hand. “So beautiful, so well behaved and obedient for Master. I am so lucky.” Crowley peeked up at him through his long lashes and blushed, pointing to himself. ‘We’re both lucky’ He signed, and Aziraphale took his hand and pressed a searing kiss into the palm.

“That we are, my darling. Now, I have to confess that I am not quite done taking you apart. So, my sweet slut, I want you to go over to the Toy Chest and pick out two vibrators and one of the thin whips. I’m going to give you a lashing while stimulating your prostrate and cock at the same time. Would you like...” Crowley nearly knocked him over as he bolted out of bed. Aziraphale grinned. He loved how eager his pet was. Crowley returned with the biggest vibrators they had, a fine thin lash and… “Your collar?” Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale took it. ‘Use it to tie the vibrator to my cock, Master’. Crowley signed, and Aziraphale’s face lit in understanding. He took one of the vibrators and quickly tied it to Crowley’s cock, then pressed the switch that turned it to the highest setting. Crowley howled, then began whimpering. “It’s not too much, is it?” Crowley shook his head. “Use your Signal, my love.” Crowley clapped his hands once. Aziraphale stroked his cock, and the redhead whined. “Such a good boy. Let me get this other one ready, my Fire.” Aziraphale turned on the other vibrator, placing the tip of it against Crowley’s hole. “Now, you’re already nice and loose from the fucking I gave you earlier, so this should go in nice and easy.” The Dominant said in a pleased tone. Sure enough, the vibrator slid in between Crowley’s perfect ass cheeks with ease. It didn’t take long for the blond to find his pet’s prostrate, and he pressed the vibrator into it, smiling at Crowley’s screech. “Now, be a good boy and keep that inside for Master, okay?” Aziraphale whispered before biting hard on Crowley’s earlobe. Crowley screeched again and nodded frantically. “Good little slut. Now, be a statue.”

Crowley froze, the only part of his body moving his chest as he breathed. The double stimulation of the vibrators was beyond pleasure, beyond anything he had ever known. He needed more, craved more.

Master bent the lash, then delivered a stinging slap to Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley hissed, then sighed as the pain gave way to the floaty pleasure he felt whenever Master used him like this. He hoped that there would be a mark, to go with the bruises from the crop. Master hit him again, this time between the shoulder blades, and Crowley gasped in pleasure, exerting every ounce of willpower he had to not move. He knew that if he so much as shuddered while being a statue, Master would stop paying attention to him. Crowley didn’t want that. He wanted, needed, **craved** the attention of his master. 

A stinging slap on his lower back, and Crowley groaned. His cock and prostrate were in delicious agony, and he was burning up with the need to come and the need for Master to replace the vibrator in his ass with Master’s cock. As wonderful as the vibrator felt, it paled in comparison. He hoped Master would be kind and fuck Crowley again. Crowley loved being fucked after a beating. He always felt so peaceful, so serene after. 

Through the course of the year they had been married(and the eight months they were together before that) Crowley had slowly expanded his list of things that he loved for Master to do to him. Master was an expert at using whips, paddles, and crops, able to cause the most intense pain-pleasure without drawing blood. Crowley had been a bit surprised to find that yes, he did love being hit, loved giving himself completely to Master and knowing that if Crowley wanted to stop, Aziraphale would not hesitate. In fact, at the beginning of exploring being whipped and hit, Crowley had Safe Signaled out a few times. But now, he craved it like he craved a good piece of cake, or a nice set of paints. 

There had been one unpleasant incident. They had gone to a Scene Party, and much to Aziraphale’s fury, Martin had been there. Crowley, who still felt uneasy around the man that had propositioned him in front of his master and husband, hid behind the blond.  Martin, showing as much tact as he had when they first met-none-had offered a half hearted apology, then suggested that maybe he(Martin) could join them for a session some time. 

Aziraphale had gone still and silent before punching Martin in the face. 

“What’s going on in my Pet’s head?” Aziraphale growled in Crowley’s ear. Crowley didn’t move. “You may use one hand to answer, my love.”

‘Remembering when you punched Martin.’ 

Aziraphale’s face darkened. “He wanted me to  **share** you. Like you were some common street harlot and not a priceless treasure. Fucking asshole.” Aziraphale snarled, and Crowley whimpered. “Oh, sweetness, I’m not angry at you. I know that beautiful brain of yours goes many places. Are you in pain?” 

‘No, Master. It feels wonderful.’ 

“Excellent.” Aziraphale smacked Crowley’s ass, then his thighs, one at a time, leaving red stripes. “Look at you, striped in red and white. My own candy cane.”

Crowley whined. His cock was throbbing, dripping steady precome. He needed release, but more than that, he needed to be fucked by Master. He prayed that Master wanted that too.

Aziraphale set down the lash and ran his hands down the gorgeous marks on his slave’s back. Crowley’s skin marked up so well, he thought to himself. His darling artist was a canvas all to himself, and Aziraphale would never tire of painting it in his own way. He pressed a gentle kiss to one of the lashes, smiling as Crowley sighed. The Dominant reached down and took the vibrator in Crowley’s ass in his hand, twisting it. He was rewarded with a howling, gibbering cry. “I’m going to fuck you, my slave. But I’m going to leave the vibrator inside. The one on your cock is staying, too. You will not move. You will not make any sound, and will come only when I give permission. Nod if you understand.”  Crowley nodded. “Good, good boy. Sweet little slut.” Aziraphale whispered hotly before pushing inside. Crowley bit his lip hard to keep from screaming as Master pounded into him from behind, hands twisted around Crowley’s hair. 

The stimulation from Master’s cock and the vibrators was becoming torture. He wanted it to stop, but at the same time he never wanted it to end. This was Paradise, being so exquisitely tortured with pleasure and pain. Crowley was in the most blissful, perfect agony, and not being allowed to move only made it both better and worse. Master’s cock was hitting all the nerves, and the vibrator was making the stimulation doubled, tripled. He was going to die if he didn’t come, he would explode, the pain and pleasure was so intense that he couldn’t breathe, he needed relief, he never wanted this to end, he was going to die…

“Come, Slave.” Master growled into his ear, and Crowley came hard. Master fucked him through his orgasms, coming inside his ass, and Crowley sighed. Master turned the vibrators off, gently pulling out of Crowley and removing the one on his cock. Crowley swayed, his eyes half closed and a sleepy smile on his face. 

Aziraphale placed the vibrators in the tray for washing, then  went into the bathroom and ran a bath, pouring in the lavender bath oil that Crowley loved. He came back into the bedroom and placed a hand on Crowley’s cheek. His darling Submissive lifted his head and smiled at him, eyes glassy. “Bath time, darling. Do you want Master to carry you?” A sleepy nod. Aziraphale picked him up and carried him into the bathroom. Crowley made a happy, sleepy humming sound and nuzzled him. 

Aziraphale climbed into the tub, pulling Crowley with him. Crowley wiggled happily, then with a contented sigh laid his head on Aziraphale’s chest. The water felt so nice on his skin. Master had put in the lavender oil. Crowley was still floating in Sub Space, but he knew the scent. 

Master stroked his back with the special soft cloth he used to clean Crowley after a whipping. It felt so good on the marks, and the soap Master used smelled like apples. It was Crowley’s soap, made especially for him. “You’ve got some bruises starting.” Master said softly, stroking Crowley’s arm. “So beautiful.”

‘I love being marked by you, Master. It shows everyone that I am yours, and no one else can touch me.’

“They fucking well better not.” Aziraphale growled. “I don’t take lightly being asked to share my husband.”

‘Neither do I.’ Crowley said. Aziraphale smiled and ran his hands through his hair. 

“No, you don’t.”

Crowley shifted so he could wrap his arms around Aziraphale. ‘Master?’ 

“Yes?” 

‘Was this another one of my presents?’ 

Aziraphale blinked, then burst into laughter. 


	3. Beginning To Look Like Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pause briefly with our smut to bring you some fluff. With smut at the end.

Chapter Three: Beginning To Look Like Christmas

Crowley wiggled happily as Master lifted him out of the tub and carried him back to the bedroom. Aziraphale set him down cross-ways on the bed, his long legs dangling down, and pressed a loving kiss to the top of his head. Crowley purred and batted his eyes, spreading his legs wide. Aziraphale chuckled and stroked his arm. “Eager little pet.”

‘Can never have enough of you, Master.’ Crowley signed with one hand while reaching out with the other. Aziraphale stepped in between his legs and pulled him up into a kiss, tugging on the red locks. ‘Always want you.’

“The feeling is very mutual, my love. But right now, I think we need to take a bit of a break. What would you say to getting this place looking a bit more festive?”

Crowley nodded happily. Master grinned, then went into the closet and pulled out another, bigger box. “Oh good, that means you get to open one more present.” He placed it in Crowley’s lap, and the artist eagerly ripped open the paper, revealing a white box underneath. He opened that, and gasped. Inside was the most comfortable looking and loveliest robe he had ever seen. It was fur lined, with a silk interior, and was a deep, glossy black. Crowley took it out of the box, eyes glistening. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Aziraphale beamed. “It’s bespoke, just for you. The fur is faux, of course. I may be rich, but I have standards. Try it on, please?” Crowley stood and slipped it on. It fit like a glove, and was so wonderfully soft and warm. Aziraphale’s face lit up. “Oh, perfect.” He pulled Crowley down for a kiss. “Shall we get decorating?”

‘Can we do the tree first?’

Aziraphale laughed. “Of course we can.”

They went out into the living room, where a large fir purchased the day before sat in its stand, waiting to be bedecked in tinsel, garland, lights, and baubles. A fence around the tree assured that a curious kitty would not go climbing into the branches(for being blind, Siren was an amazingly agile climber) nor would a certain pup get the urgency to either gnaw at the tree or decide it was a dog’s version of indoor plumbing. Oscar and Siren were curled up in their bed, but when they saw their Daddies they came over, Siren mewing and Oscar’s tail wagging.

Crowley fed them both while Aziraphale fetched the boxes of ornaments and other accouterments that they had bought during their last trip into London, setting them in front of the tree and opening them.

Crowley unwound the fairy lights. They were the multicolored ones. He strung them on the tree, making sure they didn’t tangle. ‘Master?’

“Hmm?” Aziraphale looked up from unpacking the ornaments.

‘What was Christmas like at your house?’

Aziraphale examined a snowglobe ornament with a manger scene inside. “Cold. Not...weather wise, I mean, obviously, but...it never felt...Father was more preoccupied with the business and Mother was too busy with...social obligations to really make an effort. We had a tree, decorated by professionals, of course, and we’d have Christmas roast and exchange presents, but there was never any...warmth to it. It all felt very much like an obligation. Truth be told, until our first Christmas together last year, I had pretty much written off the holiday. You were so...enthusiastic that it got me excited.”

Crowley unwrapped the gold garland. ‘That’s mainly because of Mum. Christmas was always her favorite. Dad would go find a tree and bring it home. Usually they were skinny and ugly, but we’d decorate them to the nines with what we had. Dad made the best hot chocolate, and after the tree was decorated we’d have hot chocolate and sing Christmas carols.’ Crowley grinned. ‘Well, they would sing. I’d hum along. I would draw Christmas scenes, and they’d use them for their cards. Mum went all out for dinner. Usually it was just a ham, but she knew how to make it taste like it was from a five star restaurant.’

“I can believe that. I’ve tasted her cooking many a time.”

‘Well, you are her favorite son in law.’

“I should hope. What about after your father passed?”

Crowley finished winding the garland around the tree. Aziraphale began placing ornaments. ‘The first Christmas without him was really tough. Mum didn’t even want to do anything, but I felt like...it wouldn’t be right, you know? She and Dad loved Christmas, and they had instilled that in me. So I did it all. Got the tree, decorated it, got all the cards out. Only thing I didn’t do was the cooking. I wasn’t confident enough, so I had Sammy’s sort of...cater our Christmas dinner. They did a damn good job, too.’

Aziraphale slipped his free hand into Crowley’s. “She’s lucky to have you.”

‘So she tells me.’ Crowley picked an ornament out of the box. It was an easel and paintbrush. Crowley had of course fallen in love with it the second he spotted it at the store, and given Aziraphale the pleading, puppy dog look. Aziraphale had laughed, kissed him, and placed it in their basket. He hung it on a branch, then selected another ornament, this time a star with a long tail.

Aziraphale’s favorite ornament was one shaped like a book. He hung it next to Crowley’s easel ornament. “There. Perfect. You know, talking of Christmas music...” He picked up the remote for the radio, switching it on. Music filled the house. Aziraphale hummed along to ‘We Three Kings’. Crowley looked over and grinned at him.

‘Sing?’

Aziraphale sighed in fond exasperation. “Later, darling.” Crowley pouted. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Next song, I promise.”

Crowley wiggled happily.

Aziraphale chuckled to himself. Finding out that his singing voice was a **major** turn on for his husband had come as a bit of a surprise. They had been sitting on the sofa watching Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye in White Christmas, and Aziraphale had begun singing along with the final song, his baritone voice rich and deep. Crowley had begun whimpering, and Aziraphale, concerned, had turned to him. 

“Fire? What is it?”

‘Keep singing?’ Aziraphale had looked a bit shocked for half a second before smiling a dark, sensual smile, leaning in, and finishing the song(and his very aroused husband) at the same time. 

The song ended, and Crowley’s eyes widened as the next one began. Aziraphale smiled, recognizing the opening chords. He hummed along, then began to sing, his eyes never leaving Crowley’s. 

“Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful...” He sang, taking Crowley’s hand and leading him over to the fireplace. It was the sort that lit with the touch of a button, and Aziraphale lit it, pulling Crowley down onto the pile of blankets and pillows in front of it. “And since we’ve no place to go..” He kissed his gorgeous artist. “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”

Crowley glanced out the window, where snow was indeed falling. Definitely not going anywhere. Not that he wanted to. Aziraphale pulled him into his arms. “It doesn’t show signs of stopping, and I brought some corn for popping..”

Crowley’s eyes widened. ‘Did you?’

“Yes, love we can have popcorn later. Let me finish.” Aziraphale admonished gently. “The lights are turned way down low...” He snapped his fingers, and the lights dimmed. Crowley scooted closer. “When we finally kiss goodnight, how I’ll hate going out in that storm, but if you really hold me tight, all the way home I’ll be warm.”

‘Are home.’ Crowley said with an impish grin. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

“Those are the lyrics, love.” He kissed him again. “And the fire is slowly dying, but my dear, we’re still good byeing, but as long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.” 

Crowley laid back on the blankets, eyes shining. ‘Make love to me?’ 

Aziraphale untied the sash from around his robe, pulling it off slowly. “My Fire...do you even have to ask?” The redhead sighed as his robe fell open. “I think we’ll leave this on, though. You look so beautiful, wrapped in silk and fur. My wild, gorgeous one.” Aziraphale leaned down, sucking a harsh kiss into Crowley’s sternum. He sat up, quickly divesting himself of the t shirt and pajama trousers that he had donned. Crowley  whined, reaching for him. Aziraphale reached down and stroked his cock, smiling at the hiss of pleasure. He leaned down and bit Crowley’s right nipple. Crowley yowled happily. Aziraphale sucked a bruise into the spot where he had bitten, admiring the marks of his teeth against his love’s porcelain skin. “You’re bruising up so beautifully, my darling. Like a starry night yourself.” Crowley wiggled in glee. He loved wearing the bruises Master gave him. It showed that he belonged to Master, that he was his and his alone. 

Aziraphale kissed his way down Crowley’s lean body, biting and sucking. He took the tip  of Crowley’s cock in his mouth, sucking gently, and was rewarded with a high, happy hiss. He sucked his gorgeous boy down, sighing at the delicious taste. Crowley moaned and buried his hands in Aziraphale’s hair.  The blond sucked harder, and Crowley howled. 

Aziraphale sucked his sweet slut like he was a starving man and Crowley was a gourmet meal. His darling tasted so very good, and his thick cock fit so well into Aziraphale’s mouth. Even better was the myriad sounds Aziraphale could draw from Crowley. His sighs, hisses, moans, growls, howls, and cries were music to the gallery owner’s ears. 

Aziraphale fondled Crowley’s bollocks in one hand, then gave them a hard squeeze. Crowley howled like a banshee and came hard down Aziraphale’s throat. The blond licked up the bits that had missed his mouth before reaching into his pajama pocket and taking out a small thing of lube. Crowley gaped at him. “Always be prepared, love.” Aziraphale said with a wicked smirk. Crowley giggled. Aziraphale slicked up his cock, then pressed the bottle in Crowley’s hands. “Open yourself for me, you gorgeous creature.”

Whining eagerly, Crowley slicked up his fingers and slid them into his ass, groaning. Aziraphale watched, eyes hungry, as he opened himself up, fucking himself on his long fingers. 

Crowley’s questing fingers found his prostrate rather quickly. He arched his back, groaning. ‘ Master please need you!’ 

Aziraphale removed Crowley’s hand and replaced it with his cock. Crowley howled in joy and dug his fingers into Aziraphale’s back. One hand traced the words PRAISE ME into skin, and Aziraphale smiled. He began moving, letting Crowley feel every bit and angle. “You are so beautiful, so perfect and sensual. You are my Fire, my Pet, and my dearest darling husband. Your hair is fire, your eyes are molten gold, and you shine brighter than any star in the Heavens. You are my sweet slut, my artist love, and I love you more with every passing moment. You are a good, sweet boy, so pliant, so willing, so obedient, a wild, beautiful creature. My gorgeous silent darling, my perfect, beautiful, wonderful, amazing Submissive, my love. Are you close?” Crowley whined and nodded. “I’ve got you, Master’s got you, come apart for me, fall over the precipice, I’ll catch you, my love.”

Crowley fell apart, his body shaking from the intensity of his orgasms. Oh, how he loved Master’s praise. 

Aziraphale smiled down at him. “Now. Shall we finish decorating the tree?”


	4. Sing in Exultation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut and cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cookies Aziraphale makes are real. My mom makes them and they are delicious.

Chapter Four: Sing In Exultation

‘I have a surprise for you.’ Crowley signed, a bright smile on his face. Aziraphale smiled indulgently at him and gave him a feather-light kiss on his nose. Crowley giggled in his silent way. ‘Do you want to see it?’

“Of course I do.” Aziraphale replied. Crowley blushed.

‘It’s in my studio. Close your eyes, I’ll be right back.’ Giggling, Aziraphale shut his eyes. Crowley went into his studio, pulling down a shoe box from the top of his paint closet. He peeked inside, relieved that the object within was still intact. He carried it back out to the living room, sitting next to Aziraphale and placing the box in his lap. He tapped the blond’s shoulder, and Aziraphale opened his eyes. He looked at Crowley in curiosity, and Crowley motioned for him to open it. Aziraphale lifted the lid and gasped.

Inside was a beautiful glass angel. Every detail was visible, from the rainbow feathers to the flowing white robe and the white blond hair. The eyes were a brilliant blue, and in one hand was a sword wreathed in flames. “This is...my painting. But where...” Crowley pointed to the angel’s feet, where sure enough, a small black and white snake lay, tiny tongue out. “When did you do this?”

Crowley blushed. ‘Member when I went into London a few weeks ago for art stuff?’ Aziraphale nodded. ‘I have a friend that does glass art. I showed her a picture, and she made that.’

Aziraphale whistled. “She’s very talented.” Crowley scuffed his bare toe on the rug. “What aren’t you telling me?”

‘May’ve told her that I’d ask if you could look at her stuff.’

Aziraphale sighed. “Darling, as soon as the holidays are over, and not a second before. I do not want to think about work, the gallery, or anything tangentially related. I want to finish decorating the tree, perhaps make some cookies, and admire the way you look in that robe.” Crowley blushed anew and coyly let the robe drop a bit, baring his shoulders. Aziraphale smirked and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. Crowley sighed softly. “Now. Let’s finish the tree.”

Crowley put the angel on top, tying it securely, and the two men stood back to admire their handiwork. “It’s beautiful.” Crowley nodded in agreement.

‘Now, you said something about cookies?’ The redhead asked, an eager expression on his face. Aziraphale laughed and kissed him.

“I did, you silly darling. Come on.” He led Crowley into the kitchen. Crowley got out the mixing bowls and measuring cups while Aziraphale gathered all the ingredients. “How does dark chocolate cookies with dried cherries and balsamic vinegar sound?” Crowley nodded eagerly. “Oh good. Here, you get going on the dry ingredients.” As Crowley sifted the dark cocoa powder, flour, salt, baking soda, and sugar, then threw in double handfuls of chocolate chips and dried cherries. Aziraphale mixed the wet ingredients. Once all the ingredients were combined, Aziraphale used an ice cream scoop to plop them onto a parchment lined baking sheet before putting them in the oven. “Shouldn’t take too long.” Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the smell of chocolate and cherries filled the kitchen.

“What would you like for Christmas dinner?” Aziraphale asked as he checked the cookies. They were still a bit under, so he popped them back in the oven.

‘Can we have roast with potatoes and chocolate cake for afters?’ Crowley asked, eyes fixed on the oven and trying not to drool.

Aziraphale took the cookies out. “Sounds perfect. Now, wait for these to cool a bit otherwise you’ll burn your mouth. I’ll make us a pot of tea, and by the time that’s ready the cookies will be cool enough to eat.” He opened their tea cupboard and got down a package of Earl Grey, along with a teapot and two cups. He got the kettle going to warm the pot.

Crowley came over and draped himself over Aziraphale’s back, kissing his neck. Aziraphale sighed and pulled Crowley’s arms around his waist, swaying. Crowley hummed and nuzzled him. “What’s on your mind, my darling?”

‘Just wanted to hold you, Master.’

Aziraphale tilted his head, and Crowley dropped his lips to the blond’s. They kissed for several minutes, interrupted by the shrill whistle of the kettle. Aziraphale poured the water into the teapot. “Let’s go sit, sweetness. Holding you is much nicer lying down.” Crowley nodded, and they went back to the living room.

They settled on the sofa, their arms and legs around each other. Oscar and Siren decided they wanted cuddles too and hopped up. Oscar laid his head between their legs and Siren curled up on the throw pillow. Aziraphale chuckled and scratched Oscar behind his ears. “Silly darling.” Oscar thumped his tail and licked Aziraphale’s hand. Crowley was petting Siren, who was purring to beat the band.

Crowley tried and failed to keep the tears from flowing down his face. He tried to disguise them by turning away from Aziraphale, but his Master knew his Pet far too well. “Anthony, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale only ever used Crowley’s first name if he was very worried or mad. Luckily, the second thing very rarely happened. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

‘Nothing. I just...I got overwhelmed. I...Aziraphale, Master, I love you **so much** , more every day, and I wonder what I did to deserve such a master like you, a wonderful, amazing, perfect man who treats me like...like I’m the most important thing in his life...’

“Because you are, my darling.” Aziraphale interjected. Crowley held up a finger. “Go on.”

‘I’m not...not really used to it, even more than a year later it sometimes overwhelms me, that I could love someone as much as I love you, give myself so completely to another. Before you, I never thought I would fall in love, because most of the guys I fancied looked at me as a...charity case. Oh, here’s the poor mute guy, I think I’ll give him a tumble. They...used me to scratch off a kink, or to indulge in their fantasy of the ideal fuck partner. Doesn’t say anything and therefore can’t complain.’ 

“Oh, sweetness..” Aziraphale linked Crowley’s hands in his and kissed each finger. “Those boorish louts did not deserve your beauty nor your wild, wicked ways. You are the most perfect creature ever to walk God’s Earth, and I will gladly hunt down anyone who might have hurt you.”

‘Wasn’t hurt. Just...jaded. I was used to being treated a certain way because of the mutism, and I...’ Crowley gulped. ‘I..thought you would be the same as everyone else. But you...even before our first night together, you talked **to** me instead of at me, and it had been so long since anyone had ever seen Anthony the person and not Anthony the Dummy that I couldn’t help but fall for you. And then, you were so gentle, so patient with me, and I fell hard and have never looked back. This...meeting you, becoming your Pet, learning how to please you, marrying you, us moving here, everything...it’s like a dream, and sometimes I want to pinch myself to make sure that it’s not.’ 

Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face in his hands. “My sweet darling pet, I know exactly what you mean.  There’s a reason why I’ve had so few Submissives before I met you. None of them could meet my standards. They all lacked...finesse. You are so obedient, but you have a wonderful streak of defiance and independence that drives me wild with desire. And none of them could hold a candle to your breathtaking beauty.” The Dominant kissed his beautiful Submissive, slipping his tongue in between the perfect lips. Crowley kissed back, a happy rumble in his chest. Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s inner thigh, then on his hardening cock, stroking. Crowley mewled and tried to press himself into Aziraphale’s hand. 

Aziraphale pinned him down with one hand and glared at him. “I do not believe,’ he Growled, “that I gave you permission to move, Slave. Stay still.” Crowley nodded, eyes wide and eager. Aziraphale stroked his cock with one finger. “Do you want me to tell you how exquisitely beautiful you are, my darling?” Crowley whimpered. “Your hair is fire. I have never seen hair so red, or felt hair so soft.” Aziraphale ran his hand through Crowley’s hair. “It’s a waterfall, your hair. A cascade of fire that drives me wild. Your eyes...” Aziraphale leaned in and kissed Crowley’s eyelids, one after the other. “Your eyes are molten gold, and they shine so brilliantly. You may not be able to speak, but your eyes say more than any words ever could. I could drown in those eyes.” He took Crowley’s hand in his and kissed the palm. “These hands. These brilliant, talented hands that can pull out such pictures from that brilliant mind. These hands that can drive me mad with passion when we touch, and  look so beautiful bound. Your legs...” Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s right leg with his free hand(the other was keeping a steady, stroking pace on his perfect love’s cock, and Crowley was floating not only from the praise but from arousal). “These legs. So gorgeous, so long, lean, and muscled. I adore the way you walk, you know.” Crowley whined harder. Aziraphale slid his hand behind Crowley and stroked one ass cheek. “Your perfect ass. So taut, so round, fits so well in my hands. You even have gorgeous feet. I don’t know how it’s possible, but you do.” Crowley hissed pleadingly. He was so very hard, and he wanted Master to suck him. He loved being sucked by Master. Or even if Master didn’t suck him, Crowley hoped he would at least let him come from Master’s hand. “Do you want me to finish you with my hands or my mouth, darling?” Crowley held up two fingers. “Hmm, was hoping you’d say that. But we have a bit of a dilemma. I’m rather hard myself, and I don’t want you to not feel me. So...would you like to suck me at the same time?” 

Crowley nodded rapidly.  Aziraphale kicked Oscar and Siren off the sofa, then sat up and pulled down his pajama pants, exposing his hard cock. Crowley whined and reached for him. Aziraphale wiggled out of his pajamas, then moved so that his cock was dangling over Crowley’s mouth. “Are you ready, my darling?” Crowley growled in frustration. Aziraphale chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He pressed the tip to Crowley’s mouth. “Open.” Crowley groaned and swallowed him down to the hilt, sucking hard. Aziraphale sucked in a breath. “Oh, my love...” He lowered himself down and took Crowley’s cock down his throat, sucking just as hard, and was rewarded with a yelp that made his cock vibrate in Crowley’s mouth. 

C rowley was sobbing and shaking from joy and arousal. Master was sucking him, his mouth was doing wonderful things, and he was also sucking Master, tasting him, feeling his cock in Crowley’s mouth, and Crowley wasn’t quite sure where he ended and Master began. Master’s tongue, lips, and teeth felt so good on Crowley’s cock, and Crowley did his best to suck Master how he liked, deep and slow, making sure to use his tongue to wring out every drop of pleasure. Then Master slid a finger inside Crowley’s hole, curling it, and Crowley broke, coming hard down Master’s throat. Master came a few seconds later, and Crowley whimpered in joy as he swallowed his spend. 

Aziraphale stood up from the sofa and went into the bathroom, returning a few minutes later with a warm wet cloth. He cleaned Crowley up, then pulled his pants back  on and climbed back onto the sofa, pulling Crowley into his arms. “Do you still want tea and cookies?”

‘Yes please.’ 

Aziraphale laughed, kissed him, then went into the kitchen and made the tea. He placed two cookies on a plate for himself and three on Crowley’s plate, carrying them and the cups out on a tray. He set the tray on the table, then sat down himself. “Sit up darling, I want to feed you.” Crowley sat up, and Aziraphale picked up a cookie and pressed it to his mouth. “Open.” Crowley opened, then bit down on the cookie. “Good?”

‘Always.’ 

Aziraphale fed him, kissing him between bites. “I love this, you know. Being able to indulge you.”

‘I love it too.’ 

Aziraphale wiggled happily. 


	5. Life's A (Snowy) Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk on the beach, crepes, and some punishment. All very welcome.

Chapter Five: Life’s A (Snowy) Beach

A high whine made Aziraphale and Crowley look up from the sofa. Oscar was at the door. Aziraphale groaned. “Oscar, it is freezing outside!” The dog whined higher and scratched at the door, then came over to his Daddies and nudged at Aziraphale. “Do you really need to go?” Oscar barked and went to the door again, whining. Siren heard him and went to the door as well, meowing loudly. Aziraphale groaned, burying his face in Crowley’s shoulder. “Ugh. Alright, give us a minute.” He nudged Crowley. “Come on love, our children need to go outside.”

‘Can’t Siren use her litterbox?’ Crowley groused. Siren meowed louder. ‘Guess not.’

They went into the bedroom and bundled up, Crowley wrapping the thick scarf Aziraphale had had made for him around his neck. Aziraphale slipped on a pair of heavy wool gloves and his boots before walking out to the front hall and taking Oscar’s leash off its hook. Oscar bounced around in excitement. Aziraphale got him hooked up, then opened the door.

The cold hit them like a slap, and Crowley gasped for breath. Aziraphale shivered. “Let’s get this over with, okay?” Crowley nodded in agreement. They picked their way down the snow covered drive to the beach.

“Oh my...” Aziraphale stopped, and Crowley bumped into him. “Crowley, look.”

The beach was covered in snow, the ocean waves gently lapping against the shore. It was quiet, so quiet that the two men could believe that they were the only people for miles around. The sun hit the snow and water, creating millions of tiny points of light. Crowley’s hands itched for his sketchbook. He turned and looked at his garden. He had of course covered his most delicate plants the night before, when the weather app on his phone had called for scattered flurries during the day. His trees were covered in a layer of fine white snow, looking like they had crowns on. Crowley’s fingers clenched and unclenched, aching for a pen and paper to capture this moment.

A brush of fingers against his made him look over at Aziraphale. Without a word, the blond reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small notepad and pen. “Had this in my pocket last time I went into London. Forgot all about it.” He handed them over to Crowley with a smile. Crowley hooted in happiness and planted a wet, cold kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek. Aziraphale giggled. “You’re welcome.”

Crowley flipped open the notepad and began furiously sketching. He wasn’t trying to be perfect, he just wanted a rough outline. He could fill in the details later when he painted. Already his mind was going over which size canvas he was going to use, which medium(Crowley was leaning towards charcoal, but he also thought that his colored pencils would do a marvelous job). He finished sketching and carefully tore the paper off the pad, folding it up and slipping it in his pocket. He made to hand the pad and pen back to Aziraphale. “Keep it. In case of...emergencies.” Crowley grinned and put them in the same pocket as the sketch.

Oscar and Siren had finished their business and were ready to go back inside. Siren trotted over to Crowley and meowed up at him. Crowley picked her up, draping her over his shoulders. The kitten(really now almost a full grown cat) began purring loudly. Crowley scratched her ears.

Once inside, Crowley and Aziraphale knocked the snow off their coats and hung them up in the front closet. Aziraphale took off Oscar’s leash, and the pup darted into the kitchen. The two men looked at each other. Aziraphale broke first, giggling. “We’ve been so occupied with each other we’ve neglected to feed our poor starving babies. And come to think of it, I’m feeling a bit peckish myself. What would you say to some crepes?” Crowley nodded.

‘I’m gonna go in my studio for a bit, figure out how to refine the sketch I did. Come get me when they’re ready?’

“Of course.” Aziraphale kissed him, and Crowley headed down the hall. Aziraphale went into the kitchen and pulled out the crepe pan from the cupboard, then gathered the ingredients.

Both Aziraphale and Crowley were quite good cooks, often swapping meals. But like all cooks, they had their specialties. For Crowley, it was his baked trout and chocolate cake. Aziraphale prided himself on his roast and cherry liquor trifle. He also made excellent crepes.

Crowley had asked Aziraphale once why he learned cooking when he was rich enough to eat at the most expensive restaurants without breaking a sweat. Aziraphale had smiled at him. “Because I wanted to be truly independent, and being able to prepare and cook my own meals is a part of that.”

‘I learned because I had to. You learned because you wanted to.’

“I...yes, that’s true.”

Aziraphale mixed the ingredients in the bowl, humming to himself. His mind went over things that still needed done. The tree was decorated, he had Crowley’s presents to wrap(the ones that he hadn’t already given him), he had the Christmas menu planned, but there was still something he was forgetting.

It hit him. Fuck. The gallery’s Christmas party. The one he had thrown every year since he opened. The one that was in three days. “Shit fuck buggering bollocks!” He grabbed up his phone and dialed the gallery, praying to all the gods that Newt was there.

“Fell Gallery, Newton speaking.”

“Oh thank fuck you’re there!”

“Boss? What’s wrong?”

“Newt, please tell me you’ve made the necessary arrangements for the party!”

There was the sound of papers rustling, then Newt came back on the line. “Yep. Got it all set up.”

Aziraphale sagged in relief. “You are a godsend, Pulsifer.”

“Thanks Boss.”

Aziraphale hung up, feeling much lighter. He even sang along to the silly Christmas song about Santa going crazy as he stirred the batter.

Crowley had placed the rough sketch on one of his easels and was examining it from a distance. He didn’t want it to be a painting, he knew. But he was torn between refining it in charcoal and keeping it black and white or using his colored pencils and bringing out the shimmer on snow.

He cocked his head, hummed for a bit, then grinned. He went over to his supply closet and got out the good drawing paper and his charcoal and colored pencils. He set the paper on the easel and began drawing.

“Crepes are ready, love.” Aziraphale said as he came into the studio. Crowley stepped away from the easel so Master could see his progress. Aziraphale beamed, “It’s beautiful, love.”

Crowley blushed, twirling his hair in his hands in a gesture Aziraphale found incredibly endearing. “Come on, let’s eat before they go cold.”

They went into the dining room, where a plate piled high with crepes dusted in sugar sat. Aziraphale sat down, and Crowley slid into his lap. Aziraphale put his arm around Crowley’s waist. “Oh, so that’s how it is.” Crowley nodded and nuzzled the blond’s hair. Aziraphale pulled the plate towards him and picked up a crepe, folding it. “Open up, darling.” Crowley opened his mouth. Aziraphale fed him. Crowley chewed, swallowed, then wiggled happily and opened his mouth again.

Aziraphale took a bite, grinning. “Came out rather good, didn’t they?”

Crowley nodded and pointed to his mouth. “You look like a baby bird, love.” Aziraphale said in a laughing voice. Crowley picked up another crepe and pressed it to Aziraphale’s mouth. “You want to feed me?” A nod, and Aziraphale leaned in, taking the crepe in between his teeth and biting down. “Lovely.” Crowley giggled and opened his mouth. “We’re getting a bit messy, love. I’ve got sugar all over my fingers.”

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and sucked his fingers into his mouth one at a time, his velvet tongue licking up every drop of powdered sugar. Aziraphale made a low growling sound, and Crowley wiggled in his lap. “Keep doing that, love, and I’ll be very cross. I’m not done eating.”

Crowley grinned and wiggled harder. Aziraphale wrapped his hand around Crowley’s hair and yanked, his eyes darkening. “You are being a very bad boy. What did I tell you?” The Dominant Growled. Crowley giggled impishly and ground down onto Master’s lap, a wicked smirk on his face. The Submissive loved this game, and he knew just how far to push his Master.

Aziraphale slid a hand up Crowley’s leg(Crowley had changed back into his robe once inside) then dug his nails into the soft flesh of his inner thigh. “Bad boys get punished, Crowley. Do you want to be punished?” Aziraphale asked in a dark voice. Crowley bit his lip and nodded, undulating against his master. Aziraphale snarled. “Naughty, wicked creature. Go into the living room and get on the sofa, on your knees.” Crowley slid out of Aziraphale’s lap and went into the living room.

Aziraphale followed, smiling to himself at the sight of Crowley on the sofa. He came over and dug his fingers deep into Crowley’s thigh. “You’re being disobedient again, wicked creature. What’s Master’s Rule for punishment?”

Crowley whined high in his throat and shimmied out of his robe. Aziraphale caught it before it could fall to the floor. “Oh no, you don’t. Go hang this up and bring me out what you want me to use for your punishment.” Crowley raced into the bedroom, returning a few minutes later with the rubber paddle. He pressed it into Aziraphale’s hands, then climbed onto the sofa, bending over and holding on to the back.

Aziraphale ran his hands over the paddle, grinning. “I’m going to do a twelve count. You will keep track by clapping your hand against the sofa’s edge. Am I understood?” Crowley whined and nodded.

Aziraphale hefted the paddle and brought it down on Crowley’s right cheek. “One.” A blooming red spot appeared, then faded. Aziraphale stroked it. “Your skin marks up so well, my wicked darling. My own sweet canvas.”

As Master administered his punishment, Crowley floated, happy and serene. Master was so good to him, giving him everything he had ever wanted. Crowley’s skin tingled where the paddle hit, and he knew that he would have some beautiful bruises. He wished that he could show them off to the world, but he knew that most people would look at them and not see a beautiful work of art but rather a cause for alarm. He had asked Master once why that was, why nobody outside of The Scene seemed to realize what a beautiful thing it was to give oneself over so completely, to be marked. Aziraphale had sighed, pulling Crowley into his arms.

“Because people can be narrow minded idiots, that’s why.”

“Twelve.” Master’s voice brought Crowley back to the present. His skin tingled, and his ass ached in the most wonderful of ways. “I’m going to run a bath, love. Don’t move.” Aziraphale kissed his shoulder before heading into the bathroom. Crowley heard the water running, then turn off after a few minutes. Aziraphale came back into the living room and picked up his pliable Submissive, carrying him into the bathroom and placing him gently in the tub. Crowley whined out and reached for him. Aziraphale stripped and climbed in with him, moving so Crowley could curl up in his arms. He wet the artist’s hair, poured a dollop of shampoo into his hands, and began rubbing Crowley’s scalp. Crowley sighed, still floating in Sub Space.”Such a good boy. I love you, you know.”

Crowley blinked sleepily and smiled. ‘Me too.’ He slowly came back to himself as Master washed him, his hands gentle and loving as he traced the new marks. ‘Master?’

“Yes, love?”

‘Can we have some more crepes?’

Aziraphale laughed and tweaked his nose. “Of course.”


	6. Livening Up A Dull Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the annual Fell Gallery Christmas party...

Chapter Six: Livening Up A Dull Party

‘Do we have to go?’ Crowley pouted up at Aziraphale. The blond sighed and looked at him over his shoulder. Crowley laid back on the bed, spreading his legs just enough so his robe gaped open, showing off an expanse of tanned thigh. ‘Can have our own party here.’

Aziraphale straightened his tie and came over. He slid in between Crowley’s legs, grabbed the lapels of the robe, and pulled Crowley upright. “Get. Dressed.” He growled. Crowley’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath, then nodded. Aziraphale released him, and he fell back onto the bed, panting. Fuck, he loved being manhandled like that. He slid out of bed and removed his robe, hanging it carefully on its hanger before sauntering over to where a beautiful bespoke tuxedo hung. ‘Mine?’

Aziraphale nodded, slightly distracted by his husband’s rather marvelous ass. “Yes. Try it on, let’s see how it looks.”

Crowley selected a pair of blue lace panties from his drawer and slid them on, then donned the tuxedo, examining himself in the mirror. It was cut just right, and was a deep blue in color. ‘I love it, Master.’

Aziraphale wiped his mouth. “You look amazing, my darling. But there’s one more thing. Wear your moon earrings, please? I think they would go wonderfully.”

Crowley put his earrings on. They did go very well with the tux, he thought. “Crowley?” He turned, looking at Master, who was looking almost...nervous. “May I...ask you something?”

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale wrung his hands. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been….that is, I...oh, hell, I think I might be genderfluid!” Crowley gaped at him. Aziraphale sank onto the bed, not daring to look up at his beloved. “I don’t know...I mean, I’ve always presented as male, maybe a bit flamboyant in dress sometimes...” Crowley glanced at the cream and gold tux, and Aziraphale sighed. “When I was younger. Though I am beginning to lean towards more colorful selections, and I’ve been wearing more makeup, not much, just some rouge and lipstick, and you know I had my ears re-pierced...” Crowley nodded again. Aziraphale had done that two months ago, and had accumulated a rather good selection of earrings. He was wearing one set now, simple small hoops with a diamond inset. “And, I guess what I want to ask is...you wouldn’t feel as if I was...stepping on your toes?”

Crowley vehemently shook his head. He slid into Aziraphale’s lap. ‘Love you. No matter how you present. You’re not stepping on my toes, Master. Or Mistress. I love you.’

Aziraphale kissed him. “I love you too, darling. Oh, speaking of, I was thinking of calling myself Angelique when and if I decide to present a bit more femme. I may need your help with that, love. I’ve never worn dresses or skirts, so I’d be lost in making selections. Whereas you have impeccable dress sense.” Crowley nodded. “One last thing. Would you please paint my nails? I’ll make a right dog’s dinner of them if I try on my own.”

‘That’s another thing I can teach you.’ Crowley said before sliding off Aziraphale’s lap and fetched his nail kit. ‘What color?’

“Something Christmasy.” Crowley selected a deep red polish, holding it up. “Perfect.” Aziraphale held out his right hand, fingers spread. Crowley hauled the chair over and sat, then opened the bottle and began painting Aziraphale’s nails.

‘Other hand.’ Aziraphale dutifully extended his left hand, blowing gently on his right to dry the polish. ‘We won’t be late, will we?’

“My darling, seeing as I am the owner, the party does not start until I arrive. I decide if I am late or not. But to answer, no we won’t.” Crowley finished Aziraphale’s nails and recapped the polish. He selected a bottle of blue glitter polish and painted his nails. “Oh, how lovely.” Crowley blushed, batting his eyes. “Silly darling.”

They put out food for Oscar and Siren in case they had to stay in London overnight, then bundled up and headed out to the drive. Aziraphale’s Citreon needed some work done, so they took the Bentley. Crowley, speed demon though he was, was smart enough to not go barreling down the road.

Flakes were falling, and the road, though it had been salted, was still a bit icy, so it took longer than usual to reach London. Once in the city, it took a bit to arrive at the gallery. Crowley pulled into the private parking spot right up front.

Newt looked up from the reception desk as they came in. “Hey Boss.”

“Anyone here yet?”

Newt nodded and pointed behind him. Aziraphale linked his arm around Crowley’s. “Come on darling, let’s go mingle.” Crowley smiled and let himself be escorted through the double doors.

Aziraphale was in his element, chatting with everyone, wishing them a Happy Christmas, and of course introducing Crowley with a proud smile. A brassy red head of about sixty with a voice like a kicked donkey came over. “Aziraphale?!” Aziraphale’s face showed a brief rictus of pain before he settled his features into polite indifference.

“Mrs. Garris. How nice to see you. Anthony, this is Regina Garris. She’s an...old friend of my mother’s. May I ask why you’re here?” Aziraphale’s voice was polite, but Crowley could hear the anger behind it. Mrs. Garris smiled and patted his arm, looking concerned.

“Your mother rang me up and told me all about it. I am sorry that you’ve been taken in.” She glared at Crowley, then smiled at Aziraphale. “I knew through my nephew that your party was tonight, and I snagged his invitation. Aziraphale, you are such a bright young man. How could you let this happen?”

“Let. **What** happen?” Aziraphale asked, a snarl in his voice. Crowley gulped, and Mrs. Garris glared daggers at him. 

“I would rather not discuss it in front of your….in front of him.” 

Aziraphale tightened his grip on Crowley. “Say what you have to say.”

“Fine. How could you let this gold digger take you in so completely? Look at him. He has no class, clearly comes from trash. Joan told me how he was wearing lady’s clothing the one time she met him, and on top of that he’s got a mental deficiency due to his apparent inability to speak. He’s taken you in so well that you may even believe that he cares for you. Tell me,” she asked Crowley, “How long are you intending to string him along before you drop him and leave the country with the money and gifts you’ve swindled from him?”

Aziraphale was shaking so hard he could barely see. “Regina.”

“Yes?” 

“If you do not get the fuck out of here, I will call Security and have you hauled out.” Mrs. Garris’s eyes went wide. Aziraphale was still shaking in rage. Crowley placed a hand on his back, grounding him. “How dare you.” He snarled. “How dare you treat my husband and the love of my life this way. My mother is a bitch of the highest order, and you are no better. Anthony is not a gold digger, or a scam artist, or anything else you might have been led to believe from whatever vindictive lies that bitch that birthed me might have spouted. Now, get out before I have you thrown out, and tell my mother to stay the fuck out of my life.”

“Well, I never.” Mrs. Garris huffed and stalked out. Aziraphale stalked over to the bar, going behind it and pouring himself a large measure of whiskey. Crowley reached across the bar and squeezed his hand. 

“I’ll be okay, love. Why don’t you go check on your Room? I did some rearranging that I think you’ll like.” Crowley cocked his head, gold eyes full of concern. Aziraphale smiled. “I’m sure. Go on.”

Crowley gave his hand one last squeeze before heading upstairs to his Exhibit Room. There were a few people mingling about, talking in low voices about how good the art was, and Crowley felt a rush of pride. He strolled around, a smile on his face as he took in the praise. Master had done a great job arranging things. 

He noticed a shock of red hair from the corner of his eye and turned, then smiled. He walked over and tapped the red head on her shoulder. She turned, and Crowley grinned at her. ‘Hey Carmine.’

“Hey! You’re male this time.”

Crowley laughed and nodded. ‘Call me Anthony.’ He pointed to the painting, the one of the beach. ‘You like?’ 

“Yeah, I do. Thought you only did space-scapes, though.”

‘I can’t branch out?’ Carmine laughed. 

“Yeah, of course. So where’s this beach?”

‘Our beach. Mine and Aziraphale’s.’ Crowley said with a proud grin. Carmine whistled. “Lucky.” Crowley nodded. 

“So where’s your man?” Crowley pointed downstairs. “I’d like to go say hey.” Crowley smiled. 

‘He’d be glad to see you, for sure.’ Carmine kissed his cheek and headed downstairs. Crowley followed. 

Aziraphale was indeed very happy to see Carmine, greeting her with a hug. He had pilfered a bottle of Scotch from the bar(“Idiot bartender tried to stop me and I informed him I was paying his bloody salary.”) and they found an empty section of the room and passed the bottle back and forth. “Carmine, have you ever wanted to shove a red hot poker down someone’s throat?” 

“Oh, plenty of times.”

“I still can’t believe the nerve of that bitch Regina. As if I would be taken in by a..scam artist.” Carmine looked confused, so Aziraphale filled her in. 

“Wow. You showed more restraint than I would have if someone talked about my partner.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up. “You have a partner?” Carmine pulled out her phone and pulled up a photo of a person with light brown skin and white hair. “Oh, lovely.”

“Yeah, they’re amazing. Their name’s Polly, but they also go by Chalky because of the hair. They’re not here right now.” Off their looks, Carmine explained. “They’ve got a cold. I wanted to stay home with them, but they told me to go. They dote on me, and vice versa. Like with you guys.” She leaned in. “I’ve used some of the money I made selling my photos here to get them a ring. I’m planning on asking them to marry me.”

Crowley beamed, and Aziraphale clapped. “Oh, wonderful! I do hope it goes well.” He took a final pull of the bottle. “Well, that’s one down. What say we get another?” 

“Oh dear, I think I may be drunk.” Aziraphale slurred, giggling. They had bundled Carmine into an Uber and were now stumbling around in the gallery, making sure that nobody was hiding in a dark corner. Aziraphale escorted Crowley upstairs, only stumbling twice. Crowley, who was just as plastered, giggled back. “You are not...HIC...thinking of driving home, are you?” Aziraphale asked, swaying and trying to look authoritative. Crowley shook his head, hiccuping and giggling. He slid to the floor. Aziraphale plopped down next to him. “Good. Be..HIC...’scuse me. Because that woul’...be...not good. Assident. Could get in one.”

Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. ‘Hotel?’

Aziraphale blinked owlishly. “ Too late to..make reshervash..riverat...to get a room. Sofa bed dwn’...in office.” 

They struggled to their feet and stumbled down to Aziraphale’s office. Once there, another problem arose. They were both far too plastered to pull the sofa bed out, so Aziraphale kicked off his shoes and shed his jacket(and nearly went ass over teakettle) and slumped down onto the sofa, holding his arms out. “C’mere, gorgeous.” Crowley managed to struggle out of his shoes and jacket and came into Aziraphale’s arms. “Y’know, if I wasn’t completely shit faced right now, I’d fuck you on this sofa.” Aziraphale said solemnly. “Always been a fan...fanta...dream of mine. Fucking you on this sofa.” Crowley blushed. “Also...wanna fuck you upstairs...in your room. Fuck you anywhere. You’re extr...extram...very f’ckable. Love you.”

‘I love you too, Master.’ Crowley signed somewhat clumsily, a drunk grin on his face. ‘Could still fuck me.’ 

Aziraphale pouted. “No fun drunk fucking. Tomorrow. Sleep now. Oh, firs’ though...budge up a second.” Crowley scooted over as best as he could, and Aziraphale staggered to the mini fridge. “Good. We got water. Also got some asp...aspi...headachy pills in my...that thing.” He pointed to his desk. Satisfied, he stumbled back to the couch. “Love you, Anthony.”

‘You too.’ 

Their collective hangover the next morning wasn’t too bad, all things considered. They got some water and aspirin down them, then Aziraphale insisted on going out for breakfast before even considering the long drive back home. They went to the restaurant he co-owned(now under new management) and were given the VIP treatment. Crowley had pancakes, sausage, and eggs, while Aziraphale had a Full English. 

Oscar and Siren greeted them with the usual exuberance when they came home. Crowley petted his cat, then gave Aziraphale a smoldering look. ‘We’re both sober now, Master.’ 

“That we are.” Aziraphale said, and much to Crowley’s delight scooped him up and carried him into their bedroom. 


	7. An Angel By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to meet Angelique.

Chapter Seven: An Angel by Any Other Name

Aziraphale’s stomach was in knots. He looked over at Crowley, who had her eyes fixed on the road. She looked so beautiful, Aziraphale thought. Today she was wearing a dark crimson dress underneath a deep black wool coat, along with a pair of burgundy gloves and a fine wool hat and scarf in the same color. Aziraphale was bundled up in his usual winter kit. But hopefully by the end of the day he would be making his first inroads in becoming Angelique.

Crowley reached out a hand and squeezed Aziraphale’s, giving him a quick glance of reassurance. Aziraphale gave her a half smile, his stomach still doing the Gavotte. “You’re so beautiful, Tonya.”

Crowley smiled and signed one handed. ‘You will be too. I promise.’ Aziraphale relaxed a fraction.

They arrived in London proper and Crowley pulled the Bentley in front of a building with a lovely brick facade and plant pots. ‘We’re here.’ Aziraphale unbuckled and got out.

The interior of the shop was filled with dressmaker’s dummies all clad in very fine lingerie, quite a few dresses, and even an evening gown. Shelves of lacy panties stood against a wall to the right of the door. A long counter filled with jewelry was in front of them, and behind the counter was a buxom blond in a red blouse and blue slacks with a name tag that read ‘Amelia’ plastered on her right breast. She looked up from her computer and grinned. “Tonya! How are you?”

Crowley gave her two thumbs up and steered her very nervous husband up to the counter. ‘Aziraphale, meet Amelia Forester. She’s a genius when it comes to finding the right outfit for people.’ Amelia looked immensely pleased. ‘Amelia, this is my husband, Aziraphale Fell. He’s starting to...explore, and I knew you’d be able to help him find something perfect.’

“Of course! It’s a pleasure to meet you. Have you chosen a femme name, or would you prefer I call you..I’m sorry, how do you pronounce your name?” Amelia asked, looking at the paper Crowley had handed her.

“A-Zirah-Fale.” Aziraphale said. “It’s a mouthful, I know. But to answer your question, I was going to call myself Angelique.” Amelia nodded and ducked down behind the counter, popping back up with a tailor’s measure in her hands. She came ‘round to the front.

“Hold still so I can take your measurements.” She ordered. Aziraphale stood still, and Amelia bustled about, muttering under her breath and making notes in her phone. Crowley wandered over to the panties. She brushed her fingers over the silk, smiling. Az..Angelique would look so lovely in the light blue panties, she thought. It would bring her eyes out so well. Crowley was feeling a mix of excitement and wonder. She already thought her husband was the most beautiful man in the world, and couldn’t wait to meet her beautiful wife.

Amelia finished her measurements and led Aziraphale over to a small sofa. “Now, did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Oh, um...I’ve no idea. Tonya, darling, come over here.” Crowley came over and sat next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. He automatically began carding his fingers through it. “Darling, what sort of clothing should I get? I know a dress, but what sort would work? I can’t do slinky like you. I’ve not got the legs for it.” Crowley did have to agree.

‘A Line. You’d look good in something classic and simple, yet elegant. Maybe in a dark blue or green to bring out your eyes, and it wouldn’t make you look washed out. Something with a bit of flair to the skirt.’

Amelia opened up her phone to her gallery and scrolled. “Something like this would be lovely, I think.” The picture showed a kelly green A line dress with a flared skirt and cold shoulder sleeves. “I’ve got one similar to this on the shelves, if you want to try it on. Should be your size.” Aziraphale nodded. Amelia fetched the dress, which was a forest green in color.

Aziraphale gulped, took the dress, and went into the fitting room. “You can do this.” He shucked off his clothes and slid the dress on over his head(very glad that it didn’t have any zippers or fasteners, then examined himself in the mirror. His jaw dropped.

He...(no, Angelique thought, start thinking as ‘she’) She looked...good. The dress clung to her upper body, showing off her chest, then flared out towards the bottom. Her legs looked rather good, she thought, and miracle of miracles, her hair didn’t look washed out. Now to see what her wife thought. Angelique took a deep breath and walked out of the fitting room, feeling oddly shy.

Crowley was curled up on the sofa flipping through her phone when a soft cough made her look up. She gaped, put the phone down, and gaped some more. Holy Fuck, her wife was beyond gorgeous. The dress she had on hugged her ample curves, and her legs had never looked better. “Well?”

Crowley wasn’t sure she could think, let alone form any sort of coherent response. She made a croaking sound. Amelia whistled.

“You look smashing!”

Crowley nodded, her brain still trying to process how bloody fucking hot Angelique was. She gave a weak thumbs up. Angelique beamed, and oh that did things to Crowley’s insides.

“Oh, wonderful. I’ll definitely take a few dresses in this style. And some skirts, blouses, and oh! Some of the lingerie, of course. Have to keep my darling Tonya happy.”

Amelia gave her an order form. Angelique dutifully filled it out. “I should have everything ready in a few weeks. In the meantime, if there’s anything off the rack you like, feel free.”

“Well, I do rather like this dress. May I pay for it and wear it out of the store?”

“Of course. Let me just snip the tag and scan it.”

Outside, Crowley pinned Angelique to the Bentley. ‘Mistress. My beautiful Mistress.’

Angelique smirked and ran her hands through Crowley’s hair. “My gorgeous pet. Where to next?”

‘Shoes. Can’t wear those loafers with that. Complete fashion faux pas. I know a great place.’

They went to a shoe store where Angelique bought a pair of dark blue pumps and some silver sandals, a milliner’s where she bought a burgundy hat with a black band as well as a gray fedora and several pairs of silk scarfs. Crowley blushed deeply at the sight of the scarfs. ‘For wearing or pleasure, Mistress?’

Angelique grinned. “Can’t it be both?” Crowley somehow blushed deeper.

They had lunch in a very nice cafe just down from the milliner’s. Angelique was nervous at first(“What if somebody says something?”) but her fears proved groundless as the cafe staff had more important things to worry about.

When they arrived back home, Angelique hung her new coat in the front hall closet before turning to Crowley. “I think Mistress needs to play with her pet, darling. Be a good girl and go into the bedroom.”

Crowley raced down the hall. She stripped out of her clothes, then climbed onto the bed, kneeling in her spot with her hands behind her back and her head bowed, her heart pounding in eager anticipation.

Angelique strolled into the bedroom, smiling at the sight of her gorgeous darling. She walked over and placed her hand on Crowley’s chin, forcing her to look into her eyes. “You will watch me undress.” Crowley nodded, whining. Angelique leaned forward and kissed her roughly, shoving her tongue inside. Crowley moaned into the kiss. Angelique sucked hard on Crowley’s bottom lip before releasing her. “Are you watching?” Crowley nodded.

Angelique reached down and began to slowly pull her dress over her head, revealing thick, luscious thighs, gorgeous legs, and...Crowley made a choking sound. Her wife was wearing a pair of lacy green panties that hugged her curves, showing off her cock to marvelous effect. Angelique pulled the dress over her shoulder, and Crowley’s brain shut down.

Angelique had on one of the lingerie items she had bought, a green see through teddy that hung down to her waist. “You like?”

Crowley gaped and nodded. ‘When did…?’

Angelique grinned. “When I went to use the facilities at the cafe, I changed.” Crowley nodded. That made sense. Angelique went over to the Toy Chest and selected the crop, then selected the ropes she wanted to use. She turned and smacked the crop into her hand, a wicked smirk on her face. “Now, Mistress wants to play with her pet. Would you like that?” Crowley whined high in her throat and nodded. She watched, her cock twitching, as Mistress came over, climbing behind Crowley and running her hands down Crowley’s spine, scratching. “My gorgeous wife. My own true. Mistress loves you so much.” Crowley screeched in arousal when Angelique leaned forward and bit into her shoulder, sucking a bruise into the skin. “You were so good to me, Tonya. So patient, so helpful. I’m going to reward you. Turn around.” Crowley instantly obeyed. Angelique stroked her cheek. “I’m going to give you a lovely thrashing. You will suck my cock at the same time. You are not to touch me with anything but your sweet mouth, and you are not permitted to touch yourself. I will stop the thrashing when you make me come. Do you understand?”

‘Yes, Mistress.’

“Wonderful. Oh, and just pull my panties down enough to expose me.” Crowley nodded, then leaned forward and tugged down the lacy panties just enough to free Angelique’s marvelous cock. She moaned, then leaned forward and swallowed Angelique to the hilt, waiting for the first wonderful, stinging lash of the crop.

Angelique ran her fingers through her love’s hair. Oh, she was going to **enjoy** this. She laid the crop across Crowley’s shoulders, and Crowley hissed, then sucked hard. Angelique made a strangled sound. “Oh, such a good girl you are.” Crowley looked up at her, eyes bright with devotion. 

Again and again the crop came down, and Crowley gave her wife the best oral Angelique had ever received(which was saying a lot, seeing how Crowley was extremely adept at sucking cock). It took every bit of will she had to not finish early in Crowley’s mouth. 

Finally though, the pressure became too much, and with a scream of pleasure, Angelique came. Crowley swallowed her spend, then pulled off, gazing at her wife in adoration. ‘Are we doing Shibari, Mistress?’ 

“Of course.” 

Crowley eagerly scrambled to her knees, holding her hands behind her back. Angelique trussed her up, kissing every inch of her skin. “My gorgeous wife. My darling little slut. I’m going to lube you up so nice and fuck you into oblivion.” She teased Crowley’s nipples with her hand. “So beautiful.”

‘Mistress...’ Crowley let her head fall back. Angelique chuckled and reached into her nightstand, pulling out the bottle of lube. Crowley whimpered as she felt her Mistress’s plump fingers slide into her ass. 

Angelique worked her gorgeous red head open, relishing in the beautiful, wanton sounds she was making. She should have known that her coming out as genderfluid would have made no real difference to Crowley. Whether she was Tonya, he was Anthony, or they were Crowley, Angelique or Aziraphale owned them, body and soul. Which made her think of something. 

“Darling, I don’t think I’m a they. Just male and female at times. Does that still count?”

Crowley somehow managed to nod despite the fact that her wife’s fingers were buried in her ass. Angelique smiled. “Oh, good. Now, let’s see about making you fly apart.”

Crowley whined when Angelique pulled her fingers out. But then her fingers were replaced by her long, thick cock, and Crowley forgot what she had been upset about. Her world narrowed itself down to Mistress, her cock, and the hot words of praise she was whispering in Crowley’s ear as she fucked her. 

They both came within seconds of each other. Crowley slumped in the ropes, eyes glassy. Angelique untied her, and Crowley fell back into her strong arms. “So lovely, my darling wife.”

‘My wife. Gorgeous. Mistress.’ 

Angelique kissed her, then went into the bathroom to run the bath. 

Crowley sighed as she settled against her wife’s chest. ‘I love you, Angelique.’ 

“I love you too, Tonya. Thank you for all your help today.”


	8. Lovely Weather For A Zoom Call Together With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelique tells Liliana the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the shorter chapter, I've got a lot going on.

Chapter Eight: Lovely Weather For A Zoom Call Together With You

‘Relax, Angel. She’ll love you, I promise.’ Tonya squeezed Angelique’s hand, then opened her laptop and connected the Zoom call. She had installed the app on Liliana’s laptop the last time she and Aziraphale had come for a visit.

It took a few moments for Liliana to answer. “Hey baby. How are you?”

Tonya had prepared note cards, knowing it was easier for her Mum to read those than her sign over the connection, which could be a bit blurry at times. ‘I’M GOOD. YOU?’

“Doing good. I got the tree up, and yesterday was the Carol Singing Party. How’s Aziraphale?”

‘GOOD. BUT WANTS TO TELL YOU SOMETHING.’

Liliana perked up in curiosity. “Oh, what’s that?”

Angelique came into frame. “Well, I found out I’m genderfluid.”

Liliana looked shocked for half a second before grinning. “That’s wonderful. Have you chosen a femme name?”

Angelique nodded. “I’m calling myself Angelique. I’ve always loved the name, and your child calls me Angel a lot, so it was only fitting. Darling Tonya took me out shopping yesterday, helped me get started on my wardrobe. She has such exquisite taste.”

‘HELPS THAT MY WIFE IS RICH, I CAN BUY THE GOOD CLOTHES FOR US.’ Tonya ‘said’. Liliana and Angelique laughed.

“That is very helpful, for sure.” Angelique agreed, pulling Tonya into her arms and giving her a loving kiss on the cheek. “My darling Fire, my perfect pet.”

“So the dynamic is still the same?” Liliana asked. Angelique nodded.

“Well, except I’m Mistress when I’m femme presenting.”

Liliana nodded. “Of course. But you know, sometimes Tonya is Anthony, but he still wears somewhat feminine clothing and jewelry. Are you going to do that as well?”

Angelique smiled. “Most likely, yeah. I’ve been simply Aziraphale for forty three years, it’s going to be a bit difficult to change all at once. But I bought some lovely dresses, and some other accessories, and I know with my one true’s help, I’ll be able to be as comfortable being Angelique as I am being Aziraphale. It’s definitely going to be a journey.”

“Definitely.” Liliana said. “I assume that you aren’t going to tell your parents.”

Angelique snorted. “As appealing as the idea of them dying of an apoplexy is, I think I shall avoid that scenario at all costs.” Tonya made a face and nudged her. “Oh yes, which reminds me, we ran into my brother last month. Sandalphon.” Angelique grimaced. “We were coming out of a lovely little Thai place, and up walks Sandalphon and his wife Uriel. Crowley was non bimary presenting that night, and they looked so lovely. Well, you can imagine what happened.”

Tonya sniffled and laid her head on her wife’s shoulder. ‘BASTARD CALLED ME A FREAK’

“That asshole!” Liliana interjected. Angelique giggled.

“Well, of course I wouldn’t stand for that, so I did the gentlemanly thing and punched him.” Angelique laughed. “He went down like a lead balloon. Uriel was crying and calling me a bully, threatened to call the police. I told her go ahead, and I would tell them that he was harassing my spouse, and that I was defending them, and that I also had it on good authority that if I was so inclined, I could make mention of some shady deals that my brother had been involved in, deals where he profited a great deal more than he claimed, and that certain account books seemed to be oddly balanced.”

“From Fell Industries?” Liliana asked, fascinated.

“Indeed. See, it wouldn’t touch me because I used the money I inherited for the gallery. Most of my wealth actually comes from that and from the rather large inheritance I got from my grandparents. Also, I’m not on the Board by virtue of the fact that I’m no longer considered an Arch. Fell is my mother’s maiden name.”

“Have you ever thought of changing that?”

Angelique sighed. “I did, but I’m so associated with my gallery being in that name that to change it would be more of a hassle than it’s worth. And my Grandmother was a Fell, and she was a wonderful woman. A lot like you. Very open and accepting and loving.”

‘ANGELIIQUE ALWAYS SAYS SHE LUCKED OUT ON MOTHERS IN LAW’ Tonya said. Liliana blushed.

“I lucked out on, well, I guess both. I got an excellent son in law and now I’ll have the chance to get to know my daughter in law. I look forward to your next visit.”

“Us too. We both wish we could have come for Christmas, but circumstances prevented it. We’ve shipped your gifts, they should arrive on time.”

“I’ve sent yours off as well. Tonya, I bet you can guess what I got.”

‘YEP. NOT TELLING ANGELIQUE THOUGH. BE A SURPRISE.’

“Oh, I love surprises.”

Tonya felt something on her leg and looked down, grinning. She picked up Oscar. Angelique laughed. “Say hi to Grandma, Oscar.”

Oscar barked, then hopped out of Tonya’s lap and went over to the door, whining and scratching. Siren, who had an uncanny ability to recognize when her brother wanted to go outside, came running out of the spare room and up to the door, mewing. Angelique burst into giggles. “I think we may have to get going soon, Lils. The children need to go outside.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to both of you soon. And I’ll definitely call on Christmas. I love you both.” Liliana signed off. Tonya turned to her wife.

‘Feel better?’

“Infinitely. Now come on, let’s get these miscreants outside, then you and I are going to order pizza and watch sappy Christmas movies.”

‘And make fun of them?’

“Well, naturally.”

Tonya giggled in glee.


	9. The Gift Of Your Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas!

Chapter Nine: The Gift Of Your Presents

Aziraphale was, as usual, the first one up. He looked over at the sleeping Crowley, then leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to his head before slipping out of bed and into his dressing gown. He stealthily made his way into the parlor, where the enormous tree sat, lights ready to be lit. But that would come later. Right now, Aziraphale had some presents to retrieve.

He went to the large closet in the front hall and dug behind the winter coats, revealing a pile of boxes. Crowley had, of course, been under strict Orders to not peek, and he had obeyed wonderfully. Aziraphale hauled the presents out of the closet and arranged them underneath the tree, then went into the kitchen to begin making pancakes for Christmas breakfast.

He was halfway through mixing the batter when he heard soft footfalls behind him, and seconds later felt Crowley’s strong arms wrap around him from behind. Crowley made a low whining noise and nuzzled into his neck. “Good morning to you too.”

‘Cold.’ Crowley groused, tracing the word on Aziraphale’s arm. Aziraphale turned his head and looked Crowley up and down.

“Well no wonder, seeing as you’re clad only in a pair of panties. For Someone’s sake, go put your robe on.”

Crowley pouted. ‘Early. Come back to bed.’ He put on his best pleading face, and Aziraphale gave him a look.

“I’m busy. Go put on your robe, or I shan’t put any chips in the pancakes.” Crowley’s eyes went wide, and he let his bottom lip jut out, trembling just a bit. “And stop pouting.”

Crowley huffed very dramatically and stalked off to the bedroom. Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the theatrics. “Silly thing.”

Crowley came back into the kitchen, robe on but untied. ‘Okay?’

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, I suppose. You know, you could make yourself useful and get the coffee going.” Crowley nodded and went over to the rather nice coffee machine they owned. He got the water going, then sauntered over and once again draped himself over Aziraphale, nibbling at him. “Anthony….”

Crowley whined. ‘Want you...’

“Darling, I am busy. And if I recall, you spent the vast majority of last night being indulged. Now, be a good boy and go sit so I can finish these, then we’ll go into the parlor and unwrap presents. How does that sound?”

Crowley’s eyes went wide, and he gulped. ‘Be right back.’ He ran out of the kitchen.

Crowley ran into his studio and dove into the closet, pulling out a few boxes. He had hidden them so well that he had almost forgotten they were there. If not for Master talking about opening presents, they would have remained in Crowley’s closet for a long, long time. Crowley placed the gifts under the tree, then, deciding that the house was too quiet, put on a Christmas station. Music filled the air, and Crowley hummed along. But what he really wanted to hear was..

“It came upon the midnight clear...” Aziraphale’s rich baritone filled him up, making him shiver in longing. Crowley could feel himself getting hard. Whining, he cupped his cock through his panties, squeezing hard.

“That glorious song of old...”Aziraphale’s voice was like molten chocolate to Crowley. The redhead whined louder, pressing down with the heel of his hand. He wanted so badly to take hold of himself, but he also wanted to see how long he could hold out. Aziraphale...Master had the most wonderful voice, be he speaking or singing. When Master spoke in what Crowley deemed as his Every Day voice, he was soft, and kind, and gentle. When he spoke in his Dominant Voice, Master was fierce, and ruthless, and dark. Crowley loved his Master’s voice.

“From angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold!” Crowley’s whine made Oscar look up from his bed and thump his tail. God, he was being tormented. Master was so close to Crowley, but Master had told Crowley to go sit, which meant that Master was cooking and didn’t want to be distracted. Crowley could smell the pancakes cooking. He groaned, looking about for a distraction. The tree. He could plug the lights in.

He managed to get up off the sofa and stagger over to the plug. He plugged in the lights, then sat back on the sofa.

“Peace on the Earth, good will to men, from Heaven’s all gracious king...” Crowley stuffed his fist in his mouth to muffle his whine of need as he squeezed his cock hard, willing himself to not come, Master hadn’t given him permission, but Master knew what his voice did to Crowley, he knew that it made Crowley weak with desire and lust, must know that Crowley was in torment with the need to come. Crowley shut his eyes, feeling tears prick the corners. Master was tormenting him, he was teasing and tormenting and…

And Master was there, he was pinning Crowley down onto the sofa, and his mouth was right by Crowley’s ear, and his hands, those wonderful hands that could coax so many sounds from Crowley, those hands that Crowley worshiped, along with the rest of Master, those hands had pulled down his panties and were caressing his hot, hard cock, loving, gentle caresses, and Master was singing into his ear.

“The world in solemn stillness lay, to hear the angels sing.” Aziraphale sang, stroking Crowley. “You’re such a good boy, such a sweet boy, my poor darling, you must have been in agony listening to me sing and knowing that I didn’t give you permission to touch yourself, my good, sweet, obedient boy,” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s ear as he pumped his cock. “My poor neglected darling, you can let go now, let go for Master, come for Master...”

Crowley howled and came, his entire body shaking. Aziraphale pressed kisses to his shoulder and neck. “Such a good boy, such a sweet boy, Master’s got you my darling one, I’ve got you.” Crowley whined, and Aziraphale stroked his hair as he came down from his orgasmic high. “My good, good boy.”

‘Master.’ Crowley smiled at him, his golden eyes glazed over in devotion. Master kissed him, and Crowley melted.

“Sweet darling. Go get cleaned up, then we’ll have breakfast, and then presents. Okay?” Crowley nodded and staggered into the bathroom. Aziraphale went back into the kitchen, turned the stove back on and finished cooking the pancakes, piling them neatly on a platter. He poured them each a coffee, adding a splash of cream to Crowley’s, then set the table.

The pets, smelling food, came over. Aziraphale fed them both. “We’ll go outside later.”

Crowley came back into the dining room, dressed in a pair of black flannel pants and a red jumper with a candy cane on it. ‘Okay?’

“Very. You’re wearing the jumper I got you.”

Crowley nodded. ‘Warm. Soft. Also smells like you.’ He demonstrated this by putting the jumper up to his nose and inhaling. ‘Smells like cocoa.’

Aziraphale smiled. “Come sit down.” Crowley sat, helping himself to pancakes, piling his plate high. He poured syrup over his stack, then with a happy wiggle dug in. Aziraphale made his plate and dug in as well. “Good?” Crowley gave him a thumb’s up and continued to shovel pancakes into his mouth, stopping occasionally to take a sip of coffee.

Aziraphale ate a bit slower, savoring each bite. He looked over at the human steam shovel next to him and shook his head in amused exasperation. Crowley’s manners could be rather atrocious at times. Oh, never when they went out to eat. Crowley knew how to behave in public. But sometimes at home, his darling artist could be quite the messy eater-when he remembered to eat at all. Crowley could-and had-get so caught up in his work that he would forget to eat, sometimes for days, unless forcibly reminded to by Aziraphale. He had taken to bringing Crowley a tray of sandwiches, crisps, fresh fruit, and something to drink when a big project was being worked on, and on more than one occasion Aziraphale had dragged Crowley away from his canvas, sat him down, and ordered him to eat.

Then there were moments like this, when Crowley was a human vacuum cleaner. Most of those times involved something Aziraphale had baked. Crowley had a sweet tooth the size of Russia. He also loved anything and everything Aziraphale cooked. He was skinny, true, but not unhealthily so, and was healthy as a horse. Aziraphale just wished sometimes that he remembered to eat more.

Crowley sopped up the last bit of syrup. ‘That was so good. Thank you Master.’

“You’re very welcome. Are you ready for presents?” Crowley nodded eagerly.

They went out to the parlor. Crowley sprawled out on the sofa, and Aziraphale went under the tree and selected a present. “This one’s from me to you, darling.”

Crowley ripped open the paper, then gasped aloud. Aziraphale had gotten him an art supply kit. A very expensive, very well made one. It had colored pencils, charcoal pencils, watercolor pens, all different types of paper, and best of all, brushes. He clutched it to his chest and beamed. ‘Thank you thank you thank you!’

Aziraphale beamed back. “You’re welcome. Now, this one says it’s to me from you.” Aziraphale carefully unwrapped his present, folding the paper neatly. “Oh! Oh, Anthony!” Crowley blushed. Aziraphale ran his hands over the beautiful leather of the crop. “When did you?”

‘Ordered it from Eden’s online store.’

“It’s **beautiful.** ” Aziraphale whispered in awe. The leather was a deep red, and Aziraphale could tell that it was of the highest quality. “Oh, we’re definitely using this later.” Crowley hissed happily. Aziraphale set the crop down reverently, then picked up another package. “To Oscar, from his Daddies. Oscar!” The dog came running, and Aziraphale opened his present. “You got a new leash and collar!” The collar was blue and had OSCAR written on it in neat block lettering. Aziraphale removed Oscar’s old collar and put on his new one. “Don’t you look handsome.” Oscar agreed by washing Aziraphale’s face. 

‘Siren’s got one too.’ Crowley pointed to a box decorated in cat-themed wrapping paper. 

“A bit on the nose, love. Siren!” The cat came up. Aziraphale opened her present. “A catnip mouse?” Crowley nodded. Aziraphale held the mouse out so Siren could sniff it. She sniffed, then snatched it from him so fast his head spun. Purring, she began playing with it, kittenish growls coming from her throat. 

Aziraphale chuckled. “Hmm, Oh, this one’s from Alvin and Janie to you.” He handed Crowley the present. Their neighbors had dropped off their presents a few days before, since they were going to be at Abigail’s mother’s for Christmas proper. 

Crowley opened the present, and bit his lip. “Darling, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, concerned. Crowley held up the present. It was a framed picture done in crayon of him with Alvin and Janie in Crowley’s garden. “Did Janie draw that?” Crowley nodded. “It’s lovely.”

‘There’s a card, too.’ Crowley handed the glitter covered card over. Aziraphale opened it. 

“To our best friend and the coolest person we know. Happy Christmas, Alvin and Janie Dawson.” Aziraphale smiled. “How sweet.” 

The next present was also from the children, but to Aziraphale. They had gifted him with a piggy bank. Aziraphale had also received a card. “You can put the money Anthony makes in here.” Aziraphale chuckled. “That would take more than one piggy bank. It is a very sweet gesture.”

Slowly, the pile of presents dwindled. Crowley got a box of fine imported chocolates, Aziraphale got some very nice gloves. Halfway through, the doorbell rang. It was the postman delivering Liliana’s presents, which turned out to be beautifully knitted scarfs. Crowley’s was red and black, while Aziraphale’s was cream, gold, and a bit of blue. 

Aziraphale looked out at the sea of wrapping paper, and came to a decision. He’d worry about it later. Right now, he had other, more important things on his mind, like Crowley snuggling up to him, his head on his shoulder. “Happy Christmas, my love.”

‘Happy Christmas, Master.’ 


	10. For Days of Auld Lang Syne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new year approaches...

Chapter Ten: For Days Of Auld Lang Syne

Crowley whimpered in joy as the crop came down on his shoulders. He was trussed up so beautifully, he thought, and Aziraphale had decided to use the crop Crowley had gotten him for Christmas. The artist was already starting to float in Subspace, his Master’s molten chocolate voice dripping its hot, obscene praise into Crowley’s ear.

“You did such a wonderful job selecting this crop, my darling. It marks your beautiful skin up so perfectly, it fits so well in my hand, you good, sweet, clever darling. Look at you, bound and blind for my amusement and use. You are my perfect canvas, my clay to sculpt as I see fit. I am going to wreck you, ruin you, take you apart and rebuild you in my image. I am God, and you are my creation. I own you.”

Crowley could only nod, a high, steady keen in his throat. Yes. God yes. Aziraphale was his Master, his Sculptor, his God. He lived to worship at his feet and to do anything and everything Master wanted. Crowley would gladly lick his feet, had Master so ordered. He would endure anything, anything for Master.

The crop came down a final time, right on his spine, and Crowley arched, whining. His cock was hard and throbbing, leaking steadily. Master set the crop down, then pressed his naked body against Crowley’s, stroking his cock with one finger. “Such a good boy, suffering so well. Do you want Master to fuck you now, my sweet slut?” Crowley nodded frantically.

Aziraphale sucked a harsh kiss into his neck, then reached for the bottle of lube. He poured a generous amount on his hand, then slid three fingers deep into his gorgeous boy’s ass. He loved seeing Crowley like this, loved the feeling of control, power, and most of all, love that he got from using his slave so wantonly. Crowley was the perfect Submissive, obedient, devoted, wanton, and so willing to please. Aziraphale could still recall every detail of their first meeting, when he had walked into his office and seen a vision in red and black. Crowley had lodged himself firmly in Aziraphale’s mind and heart from the beginning, and he would never love another.

He removed his fingers and slicked up his cock, eager to be inside his love’s perfect heat. Aziraphale pressed his cock against Crowley’s slick hole, then pushed in as slowly as he could, dragging his thick cock along Crowley’s inner walls. “Such a good boy, such a sweet, wanton slut, Master’s going to fuck you so good, my sweet artist slut, my amazing boy, my darling husband, my one true, my darling Anthony.” Aziraphale growled, holding Crowley steady. “Stay still for Master, let Master fill you with my cock, let me fuck my gorgeous statue, my dearest darling, Master loves you, you are so beautiful, so good for Master.”

Crowley whimpered but stayed still as Aziraphale fucked him deep and slow, his perfect cock hitting every nerve inside Crowley. Master wanted him to be still, so Crowley would be still, he was a good boy, he was Master’s Good Boy, he wanted nothing more than to please Master, he would be anything Master wanted.

Master took Crowley’s cock in his hand, gently stroking, and Crowley bit back a cry. He needed to come, was aching with the need, but Master was bringing him to the edge. Crowley’s head was thrown back, tears pricking from the corners of his eyes and making tracks down his face, and his body was on fire from Master’s cock and his hands and his teeth and lips. Crowley was gasping and sobbing in arousal and frustration. He was going to fly apart, his body was shaking, and his cock throbbed. “You can suffer just a bit more for Master, can’t you? Just a bit more, my gorgeous darling.” Crowley keened and nodded. Yes. He could take this. Master was filling him up, fucking him so beautifully. Crowley could take this.

Master kissed his neck, sucking a bruise into the skin. “My sweet, suffering darling. My beautiful one. You can let go, my sweet, Let go for Master.” He punctuated these words by a long pull on Crowley’s cock. “Let go. Now.”

And Crowley did, his entire body shaking as he came all over his chest and stomach. Aziraphale came inside him seconds later, and Crowley whimpered in joy at the feeling. He slumped in the ropes, eyes closed and a serene smile on his face.

Aziraphale untied him, kissing every bit of exposed skin. He set the ropes in their tray, then brushed back a lock of stray hair from Crowley’s face, tilting his head up. “You did so well, my love.”

Crowley, his eyes still shut, leaned forward and nuzzled into Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale gently ran his fingers through the sweat-damp hair. “Would you like a bath, love?” A sleepy nod. “Very well. Give me a moment.” Aziraphale slid out of bed and went to run the bath. Crowley rolled onto his back, his eyes half open.

Aziraphale poured the lavender oil into the tub, then went back into the bedroom. Crowley held his arms out, and Aziraphale picked him up and carried him into the bathroom. Once they were settled in the tub, Crowley started to come out of Sub Space. Aziraphale wet his hair and poured a generous dollop of apple scented shampoo in his hands, then began working it into Crowley’s fire tresses. Crowley purred. “You did so wonderfully, my darling.” Aziraphale praised him, and Crowley wiggled.

“New Year’s Eve is tomorrow.” Aziraphale said as he washed Crowley’s hair, carefully working out the tangles. “I was thinking, maybe it could just be us this year. I know last year we threw a party, but I think maybe just us this year.”

Crowley hummed. ‘Party was fun, but yeah. Just me and you, Master.’

Aziraphale rinsed Crowley’s hair and picked up the soft cloth and the bar of soap, lathering up the cloth. He rubbed it over Crowley’s skin, taking care to be extra gentle where the marks of the crop were. “Also, we won’t have to field any awkward questions.” Crowley made a face.

“So I was thinking, we could watch the London celebrations, then stay up to watch the Time’s Square one. I’ve always wanted to see it. Oh, never in person.”

‘Have you ever been to New York?’

Aziraphale nodded. “Yep. Went on a buying trip once. I’d go back. Have you?”

Crowley shook his head. ‘Nope. Never been to the States.’

“Well, that can be our big vacation in 2022. We’ll go on a tour of the Americas. Absorb some of their culture.” Crowley grinned.

“Do you have any resolutions?”

‘Nah, those are made to be broken. How about you?’

Aziraphale laughed and kissed him. “To love you more every day, to treat you like the perfect, priceless treasure you are, to never be the cause of any of your pain, and to be the best person I can be for you, because you are the best person for me.”

Crowley had no choice but to kiss him.

The next night, after a very nice dinner of shepherd’s pie, Crowley and Aziraphale snuggled up on the couch to watch London ring in the New Year. They had, of course, wished Liliana as well as all their other friends a Happy New Year.

Crowley sighed, his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed in such a short time. He had gone from being a poor, starving artist to the spouse of one of the richest people in the country. He had gone from thinking sex and love were something that could never be intertwined to being deeply, passionately in love with a man who awakened a desire in him that Crowley had never felt before, and to experiencing sex that was beyond transcendent, beyond simply bodies joining together. He had been directionless, rudderless, and Aziraphale was his lighthouse, his anchor.

As the countdown reached zero, Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a kiss that set fireworks off in the artist’s head. “Happy New Year, my perfect love.”

‘Happy New Year, Angel.’

They managed to stay up for the Time’s Square Ball Drop, and as they kissed, Crowley had just one thought.

‘I am the luckiest person in the universe.’

And it would not have shocked him one bit to know that Aziraphale was thinking the exact same thing.


End file.
